


Pieces

by Khateeah, OKami_hu



Series: A Group of Dragons is a Clan [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amputation Kink, Angst and Feels, Dragons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Makeup Sex, Rough Kissing, Shimadacest, Sibling Bonding, Sibling Incest, Soul Bond, Spirit Animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:50:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7917508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khateeah/pseuds/Khateeah, https://archiveofourown.org/users/OKami_hu/pseuds/OKami_hu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Genji and Hanzo adjust to their lives as agents of Overwatch - and it's proving to be just as difficult as expected. But stranded for the night in a Numbani hotel after a successful mission, the brothers find themselves defying expectation, falling intimately at ease and sharing some of the deepest vulnerabilities hidden away in their hearts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieces

From the gently arching balcony, one had a spectacular view on the city state of Numbani. Like in most metropolises, life didn’t stop here either as night descended and the gentle breeze began to brown from over the water, cooling the warm air. It felt gentler than in most cities which Hanzo had visited in his travels.

He was leaning on the railing, naked except for the lavish silken robe cascading from his shoulders. It was open at the front, but Hanzo was confident that the tinted, opaque glass planes were shielding him from prying eyes. The weather was most pleasant; the breeze played with his unbound hair

He had been here before and the city failed to endear itself to him due to its policies. Japan simultaneously adored and detested omnics; they were liked as long as they were tools and toys but once they gained too much autonomy, people became wary and distrustful. The Omnic Crisis wasn’t easily forgotten.

Hanzo straightened and turned on his heels to walk back to the room, his robe billowing behind him majestically. He had an omnic of his own to attend to.

With the divine dragon’s benevolent acceptance cleared from his mind, Hanzo had immediately begun to find it difficult to deal with the drastic changes Genji had undergone. The armor plates and synthetic muscles were nothing like his beloved little playboy brother’s pliant, warm flesh and velvety skin. Hanzo had never imagined he’d miss that ridiculous bright green mop of hair or those disgustingly soft fingertips which always managed to find his most sensitive spots with infuriating ease, reducing him to a creature of pure instinct.

Perhaps the urge to pursue carnal pleasures was in their blood; Hanzo had his fair share of lovers too, thought he was a lot more picky than Genji had been. Most of Hanzo’s acquaintances hadn’t been more than one night stands, but lovely women and submissive men had frequently warmed his bed. After some time spent with Genji alone, Hanzo began to miss the casual ease of uncommitted sex. He missed the taste and scent of a human body, the way skin yielded under his teeth, the subtle changes of arousal: perking nipples, wet folds or a smooth, heavy penis brushing against his palm.

It was part of the reason he pursued McCree; the cowboy was almost the exact opposite of Genji. Jesse was casual about his flirting, he wasn’t fazed by Hanzo’s polite, formal behavior that most often was interpreted as coldness by foreigners. The two relations were completely different and Hanzo couldn’t see anything wrong with it. Different types of itches required different types of scratches.

However, now he had to focus on Genji, albeit he didn’t mind it; he never could. He was still under the spell of the thrill of learning that his brother was alive; it’s just, the euphoria of it clashed harshly with the repulsion Hanzo felt and desperately tried to repress every time they were together after the first. Hanzo firmly believed that the dragons had taken over them that night and without their presence mellowing the experience, he found himself confused and guilty. It wasn’t disgust he felt, more like a deep unease one feels when greeted by a familiar stranger whose name escaped them.

Hanzo shook his head to clear it. Now was not the time to falter; underneath all the squirming negativity, there was undeniable desire as well.

Genji wasn’t sure if Hanzo knew just how keenly he felt his chilly demeanor, but he supposed it didn’t matter. Nothing could change the reality they now faced together - one in which Hanzo was confronted with a constant reminder of the consequences of actions he could never take back. Genji only wished that reminder didn’t have to come in the form of his own body. Knowing how Hanzo truly felt about his cybernetic form was a pain Genji wasn’t sure he’d ever adjust to.

A familiar sadness crept over him as watched his brother turn from where he stood before the hotel room window, his silken robe catching rays of sunlight in its folds as it billowed behind him. Hanzo was truly a sight to behold; regal in the way he held himself, chiseled muscles rippling beneath sunkissed skin shadowed beneath the folds of his robe.

Genji couldn’t help but feel unworthy.

He’d embraced his cybernetic body once, going so far as to see it as a gift - a unique form that provided him with speed and strength far beyond that of a mere human. But his acceptance turned to ash beneath Hanzo’s scrutinizing gaze. He rued the distinct aura of discomfort that poured from the older man in his presence, hated that the body his brother had loved existed as nothing more than a tragic memory.

Lifting his fingers to the rear of his helm, Genji released the latches holding his faceplate in place and set it on the nightstand. Soft amber eyes rose hesitantly, submissively, almost as if asking permission to gaze into his own brother’s eyes. He hated this feeling, but he bore it in silence - what other option did he have? Reunited with his brother, Genji wasn’t sure he was strong enough to withstand being separated from him again.

“ _Anija_ …” the word was soft on Genji’s lips, and the cyborg’s eyes fell to the floor as he spoke. He was afraid. Afraid of what he’d see in his brother’s eyes should he maintain eye contact, afraid of the riotous conflict that consumed him, the undeniable undercurrent of repulsion that always seemed to somehow seep its way into their connection, tainting their bond before it ever had a chance to form anew.

“What is it, Genji?” Hanzo spoke softly, his hand rising to brush the scarred cheek with his thumb. That, he could deal with. Scars were adornments on a warrior’s body, a testament to the battles they survived. The scars didn’t bother Hanzo as much as the metal framing his brother’s still-handsome face.

“Our mission went well. If that was a test, I trust I passed it.” He smiled a little; Winston had an odd gleam in his all too human-like eyes during the briefing. It was a diplomatic mission; an old benefactor residing in Numbani wished to reestablish contact and seal contracts. Hanzo was, in fact, ideal for the mission. Education was held in a high regard in Japan, and it was doubly so with a family that revered tradition. Hanzo, aside his assassin training, had a degree in business and navigated easily in the maze of legal dealings. His excellent manners seemed to sit well with the gracefully aging businessman, who, after the initial distrust toward the unfamiliar face, was more than happy to let the brothers both sign the papers, sealing the cooperation between Overwatch and a small but benevolent company.

“We’ll be back to Gibraltar tomorrow,” Hanzo mused. “I wonder where the next mission will take us. So far, life had been… eventful.”

“I am glad you find it so,” Genji said, musing over his brother’s choice of words. It was so like Hanzo for his mind to never stray from a mission once it was underway. And though they’d signed the contracts and completed their assignment, Genji knew the mission wasn’t truly over in Hanzo’s eyes. Not until he was able to appraise how his - _their_ \- success was received by the rest of their team. Genji knew that was important to his brother; a small detail he kept close to his heart.

But at least now, he and Hanzo had a small reprieve until their drop ship arrived. He leaned into the gentle touch at his cheek, but cringed as he felt his brother’s fingers brush metal. He knew Hanzo hated it, even if he’d never admit it.

“Is that so?” Hanzo chuckled. “Ever the warrior, aren’t you? You’ve always liked when things were more… lively. You still prefer a more direct approach instead of intrigue.” Again, he was grabbed by a sort of nostalgia; they could’ve been perfect together, leading the family business… but that was the past now. Hanzo wow to abandon the old ways. It was just quite hard to leave them; they constantly crossed his new path, tempting him.

“Would you like me to be direct, too,” Hanzo inquired, his voice dropping to a whisper, his thumb tracing over Genji’s lips. “Or should I leave you to your rest? If you’re tired, I’m not going to bother you.”

“I do not wish to rest. Besides, I'd hate to miss whatever it is that's encouraging you to be direct, for once.” Genji’s words came out colder than he'd intended, but he held his ground. Hanzo's words had certainly piqued his curiosity.

“Maybe I just wanted to spare you the begging,” Hanzo growled, but he couldn’t keep the hurt from flaring up in his eyes. “Do you have a reason to suspect ulterior motives?” He showed Genji with enough force to make him sit on the bed. “I swear the guilt was more bearable when I had a reason to grieve.” He shook the robe off his shoulders, let it pool around his feet. Hanzo stood naked and tense, hands curling into fists by his side, jaw set. “You crave this, and I don’t have the heart to deny you.”

Genji drew a sharp breath, but allowed himself to fall back to a seat on the bed. “I'm sorry, _anija_ , I… I didn't mean to imply--” His words faltered when Hanzo stripped away his robe. Genji knew he’d been wrong to speak so disrespectfully, and he felt his shame keenly in the hot flush that crept into his scarred cheeks.

And Hanzo wasn't wrong.

“I--” He wanted to say something, to take back his words, but he couldn't deny something inside him loved seeing Hanzo this way, his temper simmering beneath the surface of his cool, calculated exterior. The man always exuded a unique and powerful aura, but when he was worked up like this, Genji swore his brother could put down lesser men with nothing more than a glance.

The nervous tension slowly dissipated though and Hanzo’s stance relaxed. He sighed deeply and sank down on the bed, next to Genji.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply. “I wish this could be different.” He glanced at Genji. “We shouldn’t do this. You deserve someone, who- someone else. Someone who doesn’t make you feel guilty. I have always loved you and I still do but- it’s harder than I thought.” With an angry grunt, he flopped down on the bed, pressing the heel of his hands against his brow. “Why must we do this over and over again, circling around each other hissing and spitting? Why are we unable to break this fucking habit?!” Hanzo huffed, spreading his arms and staring at the ceiling. “Maybe I should leave. Go back to Hanamura and try to build a new life. It’d be easier for you if you didn’t have to stare at me all the time.”

Hanzo’s words made Genji’s chest tighten, sending a pang of fear straight through his heart. “I love you, Hanzo. You cannot leave me again!” Genji threw himself down beside his brother, pressing his body close against Hanzo’s side. “I don't care how much it hurts, or how long it takes. You're my _brother_ , Hanzo. I lost you once. I won't let it happen again.”

“Do you still call something lost,” Hanzo murmured, his fingertips tracing Genji’s face, his brow, cheek and lips, “if you know exactly where it is…?” He sighed closing his eyes briefly. “Maybe I just need time, right? Maybe I just have to get used to this.” His hand slipped to the cyborg’s neck then to the nape and the strong fingers began to rub the sensitive plating there.

“You are my brother, Genji, and nothing can change that.”

Genji bit his lip. “You know it wasn't that simple,” he mumbled, leaning into Hanzo's tender touch. “We needed time then, you know it's true. And we need time now.” Genji’s fingers slipped from his brother’s chest to his thigh, nuzzling his cheek against the solid curve of Hanzo's shoulder.

“I think we have plenty of time… no pressing matters when you’re hired muscle,” Hanzo shrugged. “His hand began to caress Genji’s helmet. “Your hair… it is gone, right? No more of that eyesore of a neon green monstrosity.” His tone was light, merely teasing.

Genji averted his eyes. Though Hanzo meant it lightly Genji sorely missed his hair, though he knew how Hanzo abhorred it. “I am… badly scarred. My hair is gone,” he said sadly, raising a hand absently and pressing Hanzo's fingers against the smooth alloy shell that capped his skull. Though he could feel the touch, it was nothing like the exquisite sensation he remembered.

Hanzo winced inwardly. He honestly didn’t mean to sound insensitive… He was just a natural. To hopefully soothe the damage, he tipped Genji’s chin up a little, to brush their lips together. Then, he decided to be even more insensitive, because he was good at it, and he actually wanted to know. “How much of your body- is still there?”

The question caught Genji off-guard, and a thin sheen of sweat broke over his forehead. He gulped. “My arms are gone. My legs… are gone.” Tears sprang to his eyes, his breaths shallow and shaking in his chest.

“Hush, little sparrow.” Hanzo turned over and covered Genji’s body with his own, tangling their limbs together. “I’m-” What could he say? ‘Sorry’ lost its meaning a while ago, it wasn’t anywhere near sufficient to atone for the damage, the pain he’d caused. “I’m here,” Hanzo said weakly instead, kissing the synthetic tendons on his brother’s neck. His hand trailed up over Genji’s side, to wrap around the joint of the shoulder and rub it, as it trying to soothe his pain.

He didn’t really want to imagine his beloved little brother like that, so utterly mangled, but his brain supplied the image anyway, and the guilt grabbed Hanzo’s heart with clawed fingers and squeezed. But what Hanzo found most horrifying of all was that… he also liked the thought. To have someone at his mercy like that, unable to fight back, reduced to a toy… it sent a rush of pleasure through him and Hanzo buried his face into the crook of Genji’s neck, unable to look at his brother through the shame that clouded his mind.

A soft whine sounded in Genji’s throat at his brother’s use of the pet name they both knew so well. He'd always been Hanzo's little sparrow, and Genji felt comforted by the fact that his older brother still associated the name with him even after he'd changed so much.

“I love you, Hanzo,” Genji whispered against his brother’s hair. He raised a tentative hand to the back of Hanzo's head, pressing him closer; gently, as if he was afraid applying any more pressure might cause Hanzo to recoil in disgust.

“I wish I could take your pain,” Hanzo sighed. He leaned on his elbows to kiss Genji. “Are you still in pain? Can I do anything to make it- better? Tell me if there is anything I need to know. If we go on missions together, and there’s a fight, you could get injured, and if the healer can’t get to you, I will.” He was determined enough about that; no matter the artificial body, this was still his brother, and Hanzo owed him a lot.

Genji raised his gaze to meet his brother’s, surprised by the sudden softness and concern in Hanzo's voice. “It hurts sometimes, yes. Many of my nerves were badly damaged - some when we fought, but others… afterwards. The successful construction of my body was the result of an experimental project. But the process of fusing my nerves with synthetic ones did not go as smoothly as planned. There are drugs to ease the pain, but they dull my mind as well. I use them only when it becomes… too much.”

Genji paused and threaded his fingers together, stretching and flexing them nervously - a habit he maintained from the days he'd been fully human. “Hanzo,” he said, suddenly very serious. “You have to promise me that if I am… incapacitated, you will not let me distract you from completing the task at hand. And you must not put your own life in danger.”

“You know very well I cannot promise that,” Hanzo shook his head. “You were my everything, and now- looking after you is the least I could do to atone for what I’ve done. But you were always the obstinate little thing; I know you’d berate me for failing the mission. The others too, just because I let my personal feelings get in the way. No, I will not put the outcome of a mission at stake. But my life is my own and I can lay it down for anyone I find worthy.”

Hanzo traced the shoulder-joint with a fingertip. “I know your limbs feel pain, but… if you’re injured, can they be... removed? In theory, that’d stop the pain, and if an appendage is damaged beyond help, it would be logical.” He could feel his face heating up and hoped Genji couldn’t sense it.

Genji sighed. He supposed he wasn't surprised at all that Hanzo would refuse to allow something as simple as an oath and Overwatch’s sworn code of conduct to get in the way of his headstrong will.

“The pain is... different, but just as intense as before. And,” he swallowed hard against the sudden anxiousness rising in his chest, “yes, my limbs are removable, for maintenance, or if they were to become compromised.”

“Good thinking,” Hanzo mused, studying the overlapping armor plates’ smoothly fitting design. “Is it manually done? Can you show me…?” With a nervous little laugh, he added “I’d never be able to do it unless you’re unconscious, so don’t worry. I’m not going to use the knowledge against you.”

Genji’s breath hitched in his throat as his anxiousness spiraled into full-blown fear. His eyes widened, stricken into numb silence by old horrors and memories that rushed in to fill his mind. Desperate to hide the tears in his eyes, Genji threw his arms around his brother, burying his face in the spot Hanzo's neck met his shoulder. “Please…” he breathed against his older brother's bare skin, his voice trembling and soft. “Please don't make me…”

Hanzo should have known better, but he pushed on. “Just this once…! I’ll reattach it immediately, I’d just like to see how it works.”

An unbidden sob forced its way out of Genji's throat and he drew back, tears streaking down his face. He was terrified, but Hanzo wanted this - who was Genji to deny him?

Genji lifted his right arm to his left shoulder, fingers sliding beneath the tan plating of his pauldron and releasing it with a soft click. His fingers then slid down and gripped his bicep tightly, trembling under the power of his grip. The myriad of neatly placed wires and bearings and connectors below was enough to confound anyone, but nestled in the middle of it, just above the housing that held the socket of the shoulder joint itself sat a small, red latch, its color setting it clearly apart from the rest of the fine cybernetic machinery making up the joint of Genji's shoulder. He couldn't bring himself to release it. Instead, he raised pleading, fearful eyes, tentatively meeting Hanzo's gaze. “It’s… the switch. On top.”

“This one here…?” Hanzo frowned in concentration as his fingers found the latch easily. “I see, it’s hidden under the armor… It’s very hard to find. Hush, little sparrow, I’m not going to hurt you… I promise.” He flipped the latch. “Why are you so distraught anyway? You could kill a man with only one arm-”

“ _HANZO!_ ” Genji cried, more out of disbelief than anything else. His hand at his arm clutched at it with a death-grip when he felt the latch release, a punch of nausea flashing through his stomach when he felt the joint break away from its socket. He wished he could find the words to make Hanzo understand the way it brought back vivid memories of the blade separating his limbs from his body in the first place; the day he'd woken up, paralyzed, to Angela's face over him, giving him an ultimatum to remove the limbs that remained, transforming him into a cyborg in the service of Overwatch in exchange for his life…

“That's not the point,” he ended meekly, cradling the loose appendage in its socket. “I was scared… and it hurt so much, and they told me they'd have to take the rest of them if I wanted to live--”

Hanzo seemed confused and a little disapproving still, frowning at Genji until- he remembered something. As the upcoming _oyabun_ of the Clan, Hanzo’s upbringing never really focused on empathy; he had trouble considering any other perspective than his own - or that of the enemy, from a strategical standpoint. But he realized that he could relate to the fear Genji felt; after all, Hanzo had lost his legs, too… He remembered clearly of the anger and the panic underneath, soothed only by the firm knowledge that replacing the lost limbs will not be an issue.

“You fool,” he mumbled, cradling Genji’s face with one hand. “You precious fool, why do you allow me to hurt you again and again? Next time, stop my hands.” He sat up, straddling his brother- and for a few moments, he was assaulted by a fleeting vision. Genji, with both his arms gone, his legs removed… He’d be so _small._ So helpless. Like when Genji had been a little boy and his big brother held him in his arms, comforting the fledgling sparrow, soothing him, caring for him… Hanzo swallowed hard, both a little aroused and disgusted with himself.

“Let’s put that back,” he suggested, voice trembling. “I shouldn’t have asked. I got carried away, forgive me.” He pressed his hand against the upper arm, holding it in place. “Just close the latch-?”

“No,” Genji said firmly, despite the quivering of his chin. He hesitated, but ultimately pulled the appendage away, moving it to the side. “I won't live like this. In fear.” Despite his defiance, Genji's chest rose and fell rapidly as he worked to slow his panicked breathing.

“It’s alright,” Hanzo soothed, petting Genji’s frame where he could reach; his side, his hip, the smooth, flexible plating protecting his belly. “I’m here with you. You’re brave, so brave. My courageous little sparrow.” He took a deep breath. “I- was scared too. When I lost my legs.” His fingers wandered to the other shoulder, tracing the joint, but not trying to pry under the armor.

Genji’s focus stayed locked on Hanzo's eyes, and gradually his breathing began to slow, captivated by the smooth, comforting rumble of his brother’s voice, the gentle touch of his fingers caressing his body. But Hanzo's last admission caught him by surprise. His brother had never actually told him how he'd lost his legs.

“What happened, _anija?_ ” Genji whispered.

“A building fell on me,” Hanzo explained, with a straight face. “I was running with a mercenary group who underestimated our opponents. They began to hurl grenades. I jumped in time, landed fine but had no time to dash. The entire structure came down on me.” He took a deep breath. “I immediately knew that my legs were beyond repair… The pain was extraordinary. I saw my team hesitating, I screamed at them to get out… They came back, _baka gaijin_. Pulled me from the wreckage, carried me to safety. By the time we reached the car, I lost consciousness. The prosthetics were done in Japan, of course. I only stayed until I was fully recovered and accustomed to their function, then back to the road.”

He fell silent for a few moments. “It turned out a woman on the team understood Japanese… She asked me who Genji was, and why I was pleading for his forgiveness.”

Genji felt like he could throw up - the thought of his brother, delirious and in pain and calling his name unsettled him in ways he couldn’t hope to describe. He should have been there. He should have always been there. He should have tried harder to make Hanzo see there was a better way - that they didn't have to live as criminals. None of this ever should have happened.

But that wasn't reality. Reality was Genji, a broken man in a cyborg’s body, lying next to his broken brother, his lover - the man who had tried to murder him in cold blood.

“ _Anija_ … I'm sorry…”

“We say that a lot, don’t we,” Hanzo mused. “It comes with our upbringing, of course, but if we keep this up, we’ll be saying ‘sorry’ instead of ‘good morning’ and ‘hello.’ We need to stop, to move on, but… I do not know how.”

Genji nodded. “We must find a way to start again. But what can we do aside from living each day as it comes?”

Hanzo smiled a little. “And here I thought you were the wiser of us, you aspiring _bodhisattva_.” He absent-mindedly caressed the exposed socket of Genji’s shoulder. “Tell me, is your omnic _sensei_ really that much of an enlightened creature? You trust him a lot.”

Genji swallowed hard, suppressing a shiver in response to the strange, slightly unnerving sensation of his brother’s fingertips against the internals of his shoulder.

“Yes. He is without the vices that hinder men,” Genji quipped firmly, suspicious of the source of his brother’s sudden curiosity.

“I meant no disrespect,” Hanzo held up a hand. “I have heard of the Shambali during my travels. I suppose I didn’t give them the credit they deserved… Enlightened omnics, what a concept for a _nihonjin_ _!_ Or anyone else, for that matter. But Zenyatta pulls his weight in battle, and the ultimate he does… that is something other than technology. If he convinced you to forgive me, then… perhaps I too may benefit from seeking his advice.”

Genji blinked, stunned into momentary silence. Of all the things his brother could have said, a request for an ‘in’ with Zenyatta and his ‘enlightening’ instruction was the last thing he’d expected. “Yes,” he began cautiously. “I think you would benefit greatly from his teachings.”

“We… have to start somewhere.” Hanzo didn’t sound too sure of himself, but he was trying. He glanced at the discarded arm and shifted a little.

Genji nodded against the soft skin of Hanzo's neck, still hardly able to believe what he'd heard. But he couldn’t deny the surge of joy and pride he felt at his brother’s groundbreaking willingness to seek help - and from an omnic, no less - as it filled his heart, his lips curling into a wide smile. The fingers of Genji's remaining hand trembled as they traced lightly upwards over Hanzo’s bare torso and against the soft, dense hair lining his jaw.

“Thank you, _anija_ ,” he whispered, his voice quavering against Hanzo's lips beneath the flood of relief and gratitude bubbling in his chest. His remaining arm snaked beneath his brother’s back, his hand pressing behind Hanzo's head and forcing their mouths together in a rough, sloppy kiss. Dizzy with emotion, Genji was losing himself quickly in the desperate, heady clash of lips and teeth and tongue.

He loved the pain that lanced through his lip when Hanzo's teeth pinched it between his own. He loved the taste of blood that filled his mouth, so exquisitely, dangerously familiar. And perhaps most of all, Genji found he loved how vulnerable he felt even as he seized control; the way his missing arm made him feel helpless, knowing that at any moment, Hanzo could overpower him on a whim if he so chose. Old fears, whispers of his trauma still lingered in the back of his mind, but they were fading fast, overshadowed by the easy, burning passion ignited between their lips.

Hanzo welcomed the distraction. He found his desire to take more of Genji away - his other arm, perhaps even his legs - a little disturbing, if not liberating. Genji was willing, and that made him happy: he’d acquiesced easily to Hanzo’s desire to be instructed on how to remove his limbs. Under the guise of his desire to protect Genji, perhaps, but his brother had consented nonetheless. And Hanzo _did_ want to protect him, more than anything - it wasn’t as if he had misled his brother in that regard. He’d simply failed to disclose just how wildly _aroused_ it made him feel, having Genji truly helpless, rooted to his will beneath his fingertips. He took control of the kiss without thinking, then thought better of it, instead sucking his little brother’s tongue gently into his mouth, a tender invitation to take the lead once again. He knew Genji needed this.

Genji dove back in with renewed desperation, licking and pressing at every place in Hanzo’s mouth he could find. The cyborg’s fear, the horror he felt removing a piece of himself he _never_ wanted to part with again melted away to carnal hunger, the dragon inside Genji pleased to be so ferociously connected with its mates. But soon Somen was twisting and writhing against the physical confines of his body, desperate to connect with Hanzo in the way only they could. Pleading, Genji’s kisses were fire and rain, passionate or soothing, naturally moving to sate whatever Hanzo needed in the moment.

So for once, Hanzo let him lead - a reward for his bravery, a sign of undying appreciation for the way Genji could captivate him utterly, transporting him away from the pain and the troubles that plagued him. And he was _good_ at kissing - he kissed Hanzo with all of the sweet, fiery need that only Hanzo could ignite in his heart.

“I need you, Hanzo,” Genji whispered into his brother's mouth between the licks and bites he pressed over Hanzo’s soft lips and gentle tongue. Trembling fingertips sifted through the long locks of hair framing his brother's face, and he shivered as the soft strands tickled the exposed flesh of his cheeks. “I can't do this without you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” Hanzo whispered back, his hands sliding over the cyborg’s back, mapping out the contours of Genji’s body. “I’m not going to leave you. Not now, not ever. Even if we’re apart. Even if I die. I’ll be with you. We have never been really apart, now have we? Always on each other’s minds.”

“It hurts when I can't touch you.” Genji pushed his tongue back into Hanzo's mouth, losing himself in the sweet, familiar dance of their kiss. “When you're not with me… in me…” His voice faded to a soft, breathy moan when he felt Hanzo's cock press hot against the synthetic flesh of his inner thigh. “Tell me, _anija_ … how does it feel when you're inside me? Do you need it too?”

“The dragons need it,” Hanzo replied softly, his tone jarringly frank. “I won’t die without it. I cannot demand your presence whenever I wish for it, you’re not my property. You don’t need it either: you survived ten years without touching me. It is important, the bond we share… But I hope you’ll find yourself someone better. I don’t want you to be alone, should something happen to me.”

“ _Better?_ ” The hurt Genji felt in his heart was obvious in the way his brows knitted together in defiance, narrowed eyes smoldering hotly as they gazed, searching, into Hanzo's own. “We were _made_ for each other, Hanzo. Lovers I can find, but you…” he paused, pressing another soft kiss against his brother’s lips. “I lived without you once, _anija_. I won’t do it again.”

“Genji…” Hanzo swallowed. “I don’t want you to leave. We were to live together in the castle, never too far… We’ll return there one day, and you’ll be always able to-” He trailed off, squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Genji… what if I find a woman and marry her? You know I should. Please don’t bring up that old nonsense again.”

“It is your duty. I understand,” Genji said. “But as long as you are near, just-- please. Keep me close,” he ended softly.

“Never doubt that,” Hanzo whispered against his brother’s lips. “Never. You’ll always be my little sparrow.” More kisses followed, each a little more passionate and Hanzo held Genji close, rolling his hips lazily against the cyborg’s.

Genji returned the kisses eagerly, shutting his eyes and basking in the sweet, reassuring comfort of his brother’s words. This is what he lived for, craved for - being pinned beneath Hanzo’s powerful, muscular form, his mind blissfully lost to within older brother’s lustful, dominating whim.

Hanzo guided Genji’s arm around his shoulders and snuck his hand under his armored back, holding Genji tightly as he pulled them up to sit. “How about this. I’ll put your arm back, so you can use it for me, and then I’ll put that smart mouth of yours to good use. And _then...”_ He leaned closer to Genji’s ear, “I’ll tell you _exactly_ how it feels to be inside you. Is that something you’d like?”

Genji’s head fell to the side, rolling heavily against Hanzo’s shoulder as he groaned eagerly in reply. “Yes, _please_ …”

Hanzo chuckled and reached for the discarded arm.

Perhaps Numbani wasn’t such a bad place, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> for series updates, fics, drabbles and more, follow us on tumblr: [khateeah.tumblr.com](http://khateeah.tumblr.com) & [emeraldscholar.tumblr.com](http://emeraldscholar.tumblr.com)


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